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THE IRISH UHLUNTEER, 



R Drama ol YAie 



\\iar^RBbB\\\on. 

~"%R^ DON R. FRF\ZER,r 



\ $ 



92ria 111. M^d Intantoy. 



presented in Cole's Opera House, Mount Carroll, 111., March, 
1885, with the following cast of characters: 



W. H. WILDEY. 

J. W. CORMANY. 

E. T. E. BECKER. 

FRANK HUGHES. 

JOHN SQUIRES. 



Pa^dy Carney, The Irish Volunteer, 
\- 1 AJp T# j) ENTON? Federal, 
MA Aldine, _ - 

ChUrlie Aldine, I 

Federal Soldiers, Etc., - NASE POST NO. 80, G. A. R 

C. C. FARMER. 

DON R. FRAZER. 

W. D. HUGHES. 

W. P. ROBBE. 

NASE POST NO. 80. 

ESTELLA HEWITT. 

KATE ROSENSTOCK. 

JEAN A. HUGHES. 



Caipt. Crandon, Confederate, 

Si ' 

Tj \nford, a Guerrilla, 
Ca^> t . Hill, 
dan, a Scout, 

^FEDERATE SOLDIERS, 
M-4RION KlNGSLEY, 

s. Aldine, 
hel Aldine, 



Jor 
Co 



Mf 
Et 



CAL M. FEEZER, Stage Manager. 






y* 



t*P*52 



-oo***! 



THE IRISH VOLUNTEER. 



home. 



ACT I.— Scene i. Chamber. 

(Recruiting officer at table — Men standing about.) 
Off. — Who is next? (Char, approaches.) 

Off — You are too young my boy; I am afraid you can't go. 
Char. — I want to go as a drummer if I can't carry a gun. 
O — Can you beat the drum? 
Ch — I can sir. 

O— What does your parents say about it? 
Ch — They do not wish me to go sir, but I can't stay at 



Off — Where is your father? 

Mr. A — I am the lad's father, captain; I am opposed to 
his going, on account of his youth, but he seems to have set his 
heart on it and I am at a loss what to do. 

Ch — Let me try it anyway, for a time. 

Capt. Denton — These are recruits for my company, Mr. 
Aldine, and Charlie would be with me. I will have a care of 
the lad as far as it is in my power. I will not urge you to let 
him go, but I will keep him with me if he does go. - 

Mr A — Thank you, captain; if he is to go I would rather 
that he be with you than any one else. I know you will care 
for the lad. His mother must be consulted however: he is our 
baby; one of his brothers fell at Shiloh, the other is with Rose- 
crans; if harm should come to the boy it would break his moth- 
er's heart. 

Off-— Captain how soon will you be read}' to start? 

Capt D — I can be ready at any moment. 

Off— Well then boys, day after to-morrow, you will meet 



2. 

Capt Denton here, ready to go to the front with him. In the 
meantime, this young man will have an opportunity to obtain 
his mother's consent, and if it is obtained he can be mustered in 
when he gets to the regiment. You may go now. 

(Enter Paddy Carney.) 

Pad — Hould an! Hould an! it's rneself tliats goin till the 
wor. I'm frum the bogs at Killarney be dad ; an me name is 
Paddy Carney. Pit me down Gineral. I'm under 18 and over 
■45; I'm tin fate lang an tree feet wide; I weigh twinty stun an 
feel loike a Rosicrusian: pit me down an giv me a cannin. Ah! 
Woosh! (Walks about flourishing shillalah.) Bring an your 
ribils. I kin kill an ate a dozen av thim as aisy as if they wis 
shmelts. Hooray fur Ould Ireland furiver an dcwn vvid the 
dirty shpalpanes that insoolts the ehtars an sthripes. Hooray 
fur fitin an divarshuns! 

Off — Do you want to enlist, my man r 

Paddy— Enlisht! Phats that now! 

Off— Why, to join the army and go to war. 

Paddy — Ay, that I do. Go to war! Give me a clare field 
an no favor an be dad I'll shpoil the noses av a schore ay them. 
If its fitin ye want me b'y, its the loikes av Paddy Carney ye'll be 
wantin' to do it, be loike. Pit me down, I say. Hooray. 

Oft — All right, Paddy, out you go. 

Paddy — Who said out ye go? Be dad thry it! Its not 
out I'll go, an yez can't pit me out, ye murtherin thafe av the 
wurruld. Come outsoide an pit me out wunce. 

Off— I meant you should go out to the front with the boj-s. 

Paddy— O, did ye. Thin out I'll go, an be dad if I live to 
I die, if I don't hev lashins av divarshun ye may take me nose fur 
a fog horn. 

Off— Well boys, let us sing a rallying song before we go, 
and don't forget to meet me here day after to-morrow at noon. 

Paddy— We'll be on hand, Captin, loike a sore thumb. 
(Song— Rally 'Round the Flag.) (Drill ) 



3. 

Scene- 2. — in the woods. 

Paddy — I'd giv noine dollars to know pwhere I am be dad l5 
Wait to I rigger a bit. Foorst, I'm in the Confederate states. Am 
I, be dad! Thin by the .piper that played before Moses, I'm not. 
Divil the bit is there any Confident states. This is the iverlastin 
glorious Union foriver, and down wid the traitors an oop wici the 
shtars; so sez I, Paddy Carney, be dad. An so, if its in the 
Unitid States I am, thin I'm all right. Secondly and thirdly, I'm 
in the state av Georgia. I wuz whin I shtarted onyhow, an as I 
hev'nt got to where I'm goin', thin I'm there yit. Thirdly an 
fourthly, I'm — losht, de dad Ami! .Share I'm not, fur I'm 
here. Well this is a divil av a pickle. I'm losht accordin to rig- 
gers an I'm not ' accordin to sinse. Paddy, me b'y yer aloive 
onyhow, an pwhats the odds. I'll' jist hev a shitioke an a bit av 
divarshun bedad. (Voices in the distance.) Ay! Phats that? 
Be the powers av the two tailed Kilkenny cats, somebody's goin 
to distoorb me drames, an fur fear I'll be in the way I'll jist shlide 
behint this big dornick. (Hides behind rock.) 

Enter Cran. and Stan. R. 

Stan— I tell you Captain, if you are bound to go to the 
devil to see a girl, you will have to go alone. I'll be shot 
if you can get me to run my neck into a noose to pilot you 
through thirty miles o ! Yankee scouts and pickets. You hav'nr 
gold enough to tempt me. 

Cran— I don't want }-ou to pilot me. You have been 
through there several times^since the Yankees came into the val- 
ley and ought to know something about how they are located. 
All I want is for you to tell me where their pickets are. I'll 
manage the rest. 

Stan — Tell you where they are! They are like Pharaoh's 
locusts; they're everywhere. And wherever they are not, their 
scouts swarm like flies. I got enough of it the last time, and if 
I had not' been certain of being taken if I remained, I never would 
have tried to get through. 



Cran — Well, well, if you got through safely, why cannot 
I? I am going if the whole Yankee army was in the valley. 1 
shall be able to outwit them without difficulty. 

Paddy — (Looking over rock.) O, wull ye be dad. 

Stan— -What's thac! I thought I heard a voice close b} r . 

Cran — Well, what if you did; are you afraid ot a voice? 
It seems to me that your late experience has destroyed your 
nerve slightly. 

Stan— My late experience has made me suspicious of even 
the shaking of a leaf and I expect to see a Yankee behind every 
tree. You will feel that way too, Captain, by the time you get 
back, if you do get back. 

Cran— O, never fear, I'll get back without difficulty. But 
I intend finding out what the Yankees are doing before I come back 

Paddy — [Aside]— O, now, wull ye be dad. 

Stan. — You will need to look pretty sharp. I think you 
will find as smart fellows among those Yankees as you will find 
•any where. I have been among them. 

Crar — Smart! Greasy mechanics, mudsills and farmer's 
boys. Why I could go through their camp in broad day and they 
would never suspect that I was a follower of the 'Bonnie Blue Flag.' 

Stan — If you will take- my advice, Captain, you will not try 
that. Foolhardiness is not courage by any means and if you 
think that the Yankees go about with their eyes shut, you will 
wake up some morning with your neck in a noose. Take my 
advice and don't presume on the dullness of the Federal troops. 

Cran — Faugh! Keep your, advice for fellows who will 
take it. I am going up the valley if I swing tor it and I am going 
to start to-qjght. I have leave of absence for tour weeks and if 
I am not back in that time you may conclude that Capt. Crandon 
has embellished an oalc. 

Stan — Well, have a care, Captain. Hope you'll get 
through safely, but you are taking alarming chances. 



Cran — Good cla}^; meet me here at 8 o'clock this evening. 

Stan — I'll be here. (Exit Stan and Cran.) 

Pad — (Coming from behind rock.) So'll I, be dad. An 
ain't he a foin wan, that Captin'. Be dad if there was ony tree 
av such chaps they wid kill an ate the intcire Union Army in liss 
than a month. O be gorra, I'm av the opinun that the yung gin- 
tleman will hev a bit av a dance up the valley an its Paddy Car- 
ney that'll play the fiddle till the dancin'. I'll jis take the trouble 
to kape my oye an that majir gineril, be dad. I '11 take a bit av 
walk after him. (Starts L Enter Stan. R.) 

Stan — Halt ! 'Bout face. Can't you turn your body? 

P — I can, sor. 

Stan — Why don't you then ? 

P — Be dad an yez told me to bout face. 

Stan — 'Bout your body then. 

P — Be dad, an what fur thin? 

vStan — Turn around here I tell you. 

P — Go to the divil an turn me around 3 r ersilf. (S does so.) 

Stan — Well, who in blazes are you, and what are you do- 
ing here? 

P — I'm the divil, an I'm standin' here. 

Stan — O, you are the devil are you; when did you come up? 

P — I'm alwis up at prisint. I heard a while ago that there 
wus a wa-ar goin on here an I cum up to enjoy the divarshun. 

Stan — Well, this is the first time I knew the devil was an 
Irishman. 

P — An its many things that mabbe yez don't know yit, me 
foine felly. Pit down that crooked stick yez hev in yer hand, or 
I'll swally it. 

Stan — I think that if you 'swallied' it you might get blown 
up with it. 

P. — Its not up I want to go: be dad. Now, phwat are yez 
doin here yersilf, me foine felly. Yez take great liberty wid me 
axin so many questions. Who are yez, onyhow? 

Stan — My name is Stanford, I'm a Confederate soldier. 



P — O, yez are. So yez is wun av thim fell}- s that are up to 
drinkin' blood and raisin such a hullabalioo an the arth at prisint. 
An how many more av yez fellys is there about here, may I hev 
the obligeness to ax? 

Stan — Only about 3,cco, and the}' are going away shortly. 

P — Are yez wan av the big fellys or ony a shmail wan? 

Stan — I'm what the}' call a guerrilla. I come and go 
where I please, and take orders from nobody. 

P — A gorilla ! Then yez is wan av the fellys that take a 
crack at the b'ys from behiut the trees an sich. Yez look loike 
it. Be dad if there wus more av our family I'd think yez wtis me 
twin brother. Yez wun make a foin divil, so yez wud. 

Stan — Well, my friend, I think I'll take you to camp and 
exhibit you to the boys up there. 

P — O, wull yez, now. Whin, be dad? 

Stan — Now. Come along. (Turns to walk away, when 
P whips out a couple revolvers) 

P — Shtap ! (Stan, turns about.) I'll throuble yez to toss 
that crooked iron over this way; I want to swally it. (S. doe« so.) 
Have yez ony more av thim things about yer close? 

Stan— No; that's all. 

P — Now me foine felly, I'll throuble yez to pit yer whrist 
in this little fixen. (Produces handcuffs. Stan, hesitates. P 
raises revolver. S. puts hand in.) Now the other. (Stan, puts 
in the other.) Now, be dad, yez'll go wid me wance. Come in- 
to the woods a bit, I want to have a chat wid yez. [Exit L.] 
[Enter Crandon, R.] 

Cran — It is after eight o'clock and Stanford should be 
here. I wonder where he can be. I should be away by this 
time. He thinks my trip up the valley is a dangerous one, but 
love laughs at locksmiths arid Yankee pickets, so I am going 
through. It has been a year since I saw Marion, and the time 
has seemed an age. My coming will be a surprise to her, and 
although she is devoted to the Union and the old flag, I hope to 



convince her that the South is in the right and will soon achiey e 
her independence. Then we will have a nation oi gentlemen. 
[Enter Paddy, L. 

P — O, now, wull yez, be dad. (C. turns, faces P's pistol.) 
Good avenin' sor. Don't wink or be dad I'll sind yez to glory by 
the lead mine route, (produces handcuffs.) Wull yez be so 
koin :■ as to obligate me b} r puttin' yer fisht in this little bit av iern? 

Cran — No, never ! I'll die first. 

P — Be dad that'll suit me to a dot. Yez won't be givin 
me anny throuble, thin. Hev yez ony thing to say befoie ye die 
foor.3t. 

Cran — No ! Shoot ! shoot, you infernal assassin ! 

P — Divil the sassin am I, but I've got a timper loike foire 
an I'm gittin purty hot, avick, an if yez hev ony word to sind to 
yer Marion, yez better shpit'it out an I'll tell her. Its me that'll 
see her in a few days. 

Cran — Do you know her? 

P. — Put yer hand in there or ye'll get a bullet in a howly 
second. (C. handcuffed.) . Now thin, me foine felly, yer all right 
an ye'll obligate me greatly if ye'll shtop here a minit, I want to 
introjuce a friend till yez. (Exit and return with Stan.) Now 
Captin Crandon I hev the owdashous obligation av presintin to 
yez the gintiemanly cutthroat an robber, the gorilla Stanford. 
Mebby yez hev met him before. 

Cran — Well, Stanford, you seem to be in the same predic- 
ament that I am. I-iow did it happen? 

Stan — I took this cursed Yank for a fool and he got the 
drop on rne. 

Cran — He took me in the same way. 

Stan — Well, we seem to be in for it unless some of our 
men happen along this way pretty soon. 

Cran — Keep your eyes open. We must find some way 
to outwit this infernal Irishman. 

P— Well byes, phat div yez think av it ony way? Yer a 
couple of foine wans entoirely, an't yez? I belave I'll git the 



8. 



whole ribel army if I kape an. But I can't fool wid yez much 
longer. Ive got to get out av this. (Soliloquises) Be dad I 
don't know phwat to do wid de shpalpanes. I don't want to 
murther thim and I can't take thim wid me an I can't let 
thim go. Be jabers, I hev it; I'll tie the divils togedder and tie 
thim till a tree. It'll be fjine divarshun. (Approaches.) Well, 
b} T es, I musht lave yez fur the prisint and I'll be under the pane- 
ful necessity av lavin yez here. I'm goin to tackle yez togedder 
an lave yez tied till a tree. 

Cran — You infernal scoundrel, do you intend to leave us 
to starve? 

P — No, honey, but yez'll hev to take yer chances av 
somebody's findin yez before yez git that fur alang. Jist shtep 
this way, gintlemen. (Paddy unfastens one wrist of each, fastens 
them together and starts to lead them off, when they knock him 
down, search his pockets for key, unlock handcuffs aud pinion P) 
Phwat the divil med that tree fall on me bed. (Sees handcuffs.) 
O, wurra! wurra! an is it Paddy Carney that is caught in the 
darbies! Ohone! ohone! that I should live to see it. 

Stan — Get up here, you sneaking Yankee spy ! What's 
to hinder me from blowing your brains out. 

P — I hav'nt got any brains. If I had, be dad, I wouldn't 
be here like a bear in a trap. 

Cran — Well, you won't be here long. Let us take him to 
camp and turn him over to the Colonel; they can try him and 
hang him tor a spy 

P— (Aside.) O, wull yez, be dad. [Exit R.] 

Scene 3. — Court Martial. 
Judge Advocate seated at table, others seated around. 
J. A — Bring in the prisoner. (Enter P. guarded. Charge 
read.) What do you say, guilty or not guilty. 
P— Phwat? 

J. A — Are you guilty or not guilty? 
P — Am I guilty or not guilty of phwat, be dad? 



J. A — You are charged with being a spy from the Federal 



army 



P— Is that so? Well, phwat did I spy? 

J. A — You are here to answer, not to ask questions. 

P — O, am I then. Well drive an wid yer ducks. 

J. A — Answer my question. Are you guilty or not guilty? 

P — Be dad, sor, I can't say, till I hear the ividence. 

J. A — He refuses to plead. Enter a plea of not guilty. 

P — I'm obligated to yez, sor, an if yez say its not guilty I 
am, thin be dad I'll be biddin yez good day sor. (Starts to go.) 

J. A — Not so fast my friend, we are not through with you. 

P — Yer not? Didn't yez say I was not guilty? Phwat is 
yez goin to thry me fur if I'm not guilty? 

J. A — That is a legal technicality. Call the witnesses. 

P — O, is it then. A touchnecality. O yer a quare set. 

J. A — Capt. Crandon, you may tell the court what you 
know about this man being found in our lines in disguise. 

Cran — Stanford and myself found this man about a mile 
from camp, arrested and brought him in. He was dressed as he 
is now and was armed with two revolvers, which we took from 
him, as well as two pairs of handcuffs. He could give no account 
of himself, but from his talk we take him to be a Yankee spy. 

P — Yez lie: I'm a Frinchman, be dad. 

J. A — Stanford tell the court what you know about the 
-matter. 

Stan — Capt Crandon has related all there is to it. We 
were together at the time. He told me that he was the devil, 
but I believe that he is a spy. 

J. A — Prisoner, have you anything to say? 

P- -I hev, yer anner, if yez'll give me time. 

J. A — O, 3'es, take all the time you want. 

P— Well then, I'll wait till doomsday. 

J. A — We can't wait that long. Any reasonable time, 
however. 



10 



p — Well thin, how vvid Christmas two years suit yez. 

J. A. — This is a serious mattei and we permit no levity. 
You must say what you wish to say at once. 

p — Be dad yer a quare set. Yez tell me to take me own 
time an thin tell me I musht spake at wanee. To the divil wid yez. 

J. A — Where are you from? 

P — I'm frum Killarney. sor, an lavish I was frum here.. 

J. A — Where do you belong at present? 

P — Its mighty ivident that I belong here at prisent, but be 
('.ad I'll not be long here if yez let me lave. 

J. A — Do you belong to the Federal army? 

P — Phwat it I do; can't a felly belang there if he wants to? 

J. A — If you co, what are you doing here? 

P — I'm tied here answerin yer fool questions. 

j. A — Are you a Federal soldier? 

P — Do I look loike wan? Or mabby yez never wis near 
enough to one to see phwat they look loike. Be dad they'd 
frighten the soul out av yez. 

J. A — Your a fool. 

P — If yez burn me for a fool, ye'll git mighty wise ashes, 
me b'y. 

J. A — Guards, remove the prisoner. 
P— Be dad yez naden't; I kin walk. (Exit R.) 

J. A — Gentlemen, the proof is before you, what do you 
say? A ballot will be taken upon the guilt or innocence of the 
prisoner. (Ballot.) The court finds- the prisoner guilty. A 
further ballot will be taken upon his punishment. (Ballot.) The 
court sentences the prisoner to death by hanging. Bring him in, 
(Enter P. and guard.) Prisoner, the court after due deliberation, 
finds you guilty of being a spy and sentences you to death by 
hanging. The time fixed for your execution is to-morrow at 4 
o'clock in the afternoon. Remove the prisoner. 

P — Hould an yez bloody villains. Phwat div yez mane 
by telhn me that I'm to be hung to-morra before a clock. Dlv 



11 



yez lh : nk I loike the chokin well enough to lake it for a divarshun t 

J. A. — You had better prepare for death; your time is short. 

P O, is it thin. Be the powers of Moll Kelly, it'll be 
lang enough for me to fix some av yez before I've done wid yez 
Ye tell me that ye hev thried me an after jue deliberation ye hev 
found me guilty av bein a sphy. Yez could hev found me guilty 
of murther jis't as aisy. Yez wid hang an unwaned babby if yez 
thought it belanged to the Union army. (To Crandon.) Mabby 
ye'll take that thrip yez were spaking av, but may the ould Har- 
ry catch me neck if I don't be there before yez an shpoil some ay 
yer fun. Hooray fur Quid Ireland an down wid the traitors an 
oop wid the shtars. 

J. A — Will 3'Ou join the Confederate army if we let you off? 

P — Out wid yez, ye villain ! I wid hang a thousand years 
an die a thousand times before I'd folly the dirty rag yez call the 
Bonnie Blue Flag. Down wid it sez I, an down wid the traitors 
an villains that folly it. I kim from Ould Ireland to be a free 
man an I'll niver folly the thing that floats alongside av the whip 
that yez uses an yer nagurs. Down wid yer flag an yer whip ! 
I'll shwing bafore I'll uphold aither. (Tableau. Curtain. 



12 



ACT II.— Scene i. Guard House. 

Paddy handcuffed; guard marching; Paddy removes handcuffs 

and as guard turns his back, springs up and seizes him by 

the neck from behind; struggle, guard sinks down. 

P — Be thejiowly poker that's a good job of garrotin, an 
I'm av the opihun that the hangin won't come off to-morra. 
Paddy Carney won't be there onyhow. The bloody ribils didn't 
know that I had a bit av a shpring in the darbies that didn't nade 
a kay to unlock thim. What divarshun ! I think I'll fix this 
Johnny sos he won't be givin ony throuble for a while. (Binds 
and gags guard.) There now, me foine felly, I hope yez'll be 
comfortable loike for a eouple av hours, an by the same token I'll 
take yer contraptions wid me. (Exit L. Enter relief g'd R.) 

Off — Here's the prisoner, but where's the guard. (Soldier 
turns guard over.) 

Gd — This is the guard, but where's the prisoner? 

Off — Give the alarm there one of you. Take off the gag 
and unbind him. How did this happen? Where is your prisoner? 

Gd — That devil of an Irishman got his handcuffs off and 
choked me. While I was unconscious he bound me and got 
away. 

Off — This is a fine business. How long has he been gone? 

Gd — Nearly two hours; he is miles away by this time. 

Off — Go back to youf quarters. I must report this to the 
Colonel. There will be the very duce to pay. (Exit all, R.) 



13 



Scene 2. — In the woods. 
P— I wonder if they're hangin poor Paddy Carney to-day? 
Be dad bnt they musht hev hed some foine divarshun whin they 
found that the illigent gintlemon to be hung wasn't there. Now 
I'll see phwat that foine Captin is doin up the valley, an if I don't 
give him a shtart me name isn't Paddy Carney. Be dad, phwat 
divarshun. (Exit R. 



P — I tell yez, b'ys, them ribs giv me a puty close shave an 
if it hadn't been tur me divarshun sure they'd pulled me neck. 
Troth, but sorra I am that I hed to lave me darbies, and 
the bloody tiefs stole me revolvers. But Uncle Sam's rich. I 
can get anither pair, if I have money enough. 

Corp. Johnson — What are they going to do down there? 

P — Goin to do? Break their bloody necks runnin away 
if we make a lick in that direction. 

Corp J. --Will they fight? 

P. — Foight? Sorra the bit. They's the crack fellys on 
fut racin an it would take a quarter horse to head wan av thim 
aff, if he got sight av the blue coats. 

Corp J — Theu you think yur chances for getting a crack 
at them are rather slim? 

P — If we do, b'ys, we'll hev to surprise them. If they 
found we wuz after them they'd be like Paddy's flea — when you 
get him under your thumb, be dad he ant there. 

Corp. J.— Do you suppose you could find the place again? 

P — Find it? Wid me two eyes shut a rod I could. Sure 



34 

1 thought I'd never git out av the divil's nist, an I tuk a good luk 
at it. (Enter Crandon R. disguised.) [P. aside.] Bethehowiv 
poker that's him. 

Cran— Well, b °y s ' you seem to be enjoying yourselves. 
What regiment is this? 

Ccrp. J--The 18th Infantry. 

Cran — Whose brigade? 
. Corp. J— Col. Corcoran is in command. He is the Colonel 
of our regiment. 

Cran --Ah, yes. Where is his headquarters? 

Corp. J— About a mile up this way. What i* your regiment 

Cran-I'm an aidS-de-camp of General Dashwood. com- 
manding 3d brigade, and am going up to headquarters 'to see 
some friends. 

P— (Aside.) O, wull yez, be dad. 



days. 



Cran-I hear we are going to move to the front in a few 
Have you heard anything about it in your regiment? 

Corp. J. — No, but I wish we would move. We are op- 
ting tired of lying in camp. We may get a chance to hav" a 
brush with the brigade of Johnnies that are lying down the val- 
ley about thirty miles. 

P— Whisht ! ye spalpane. 

Cran— (Aside.) Good God! It's him and I'm lost. 
P-Phwat's the matter wid yez. Yer taken quite pale 
like all to wance. 

Cran— O, nothing, only I have a bad tooth ache- it 
makes me jump sometimes. 

P— Better come wid me to the doctor's and hev it pulled 



soi 



Cran— O no, not now. It will ease up presently, I hope. 

P— Where did yez sey yer brigade was, sor? I hev a 
cozin in wan av thim companies, Paddv Carnev by name. Mab- 
by ye know him, sor. He's a broth of a by, is' Pat. 

Cran-Yes, I know Pat. I have seen him around head 



15 



quarters several times. He looks very much like yourself. 
(Aside.) Thank heaven, this is another Irishman. 

P — Yes sor, its twins we are. Our mothers wuz sisters, 
an I looked so much loike him that they called me Pat, afther 
him, an then they named him Pat afther me. Pat's a great lad. 
I heard he wis doin some scoutin among the Johnnies. 

Cran — Yes, he is doing duty of that kind at present, I be 
lieve. He has been on a scout for the last week or so and is 
gone over his time. The Colonel is a little anxious about him. 

P — (Aside.) Is he, be dad? O, yer a slick wan. (Aloud.) 
Niver mind Pat. If they catch him it'll take a regiment to hould 
him. I'll bet noine dollars that ye'll see Paddy Carney before 
two days, sor. 

Cran — (Aside.) I don't like this. There can't be two 
men so exactly alike. (Aloud.) Well boys, good day, I'll walk 
up to the Colonel's tent. 

P— Tell Pat whin yez say him that his twin cousin is to 
the fore yit. [Exit Cran. R. Paddy springs to his feet.] Be 
the piper that played before Moses, its him ! An its great di- 
varshun we'll hev. If we don't hev a hangin then I'm a Dutchman! 

Corp. J — What's the matter with you Pat? 

P — Phwats the matter wid me? Be jabers ! nothin's the 
matter wid me, but there'll be somethin the matter wid somebody 
before long. Tare an 'ouns but the bloody tief has got the 
cheek to do phwat he tould dat murtherin gorilla he wid do. 
O, thunder an turf, phwat cheek the felly has. 

Corp. J — Pat, you're going crazy. What in thunder are 
you talking about? 

P — Oho, wasn't that a divarshun about me twin cozin? 
Hooray ! Pat, yer a juel ! Heads I win; tails, yez lose ! Bedad 
its the captain I want to say in a jiffy ! Corporal, if yez want 
tree stripes on yer arrum kape yer oye an that chap fur two 
minits. Don't let him pass the pickets. 



16 



Corp — What for, you crazy Irishman? 

P — Yez'll find out in a jifty. Do phwat I tell yez an yer 
a sargint to-morra. I'm off to find the captin. (Exit L.) 

Corp — There's something wrong about that aide-de-camp 
or Pat wouldn't be so excited. Boys, let's follow the fellow and 
see whats in the wind, (Exit soldiers L.) 



Scene 4.---A. Picket Guard. 
Enter Crandon hurriedly. 
Guard— Halt. 

Cran — I'm an aide-de-camp on General Dash wood's staff 
and on urgent business. Let me pass. 

Guard — Have you tae countersign? 
Cran — I have- 
Guard —Advance then, and give it. [Crandon advanees 
and seizes guard's musket. They struggle.] 

Dent— (outside.) Stop him ! Halt, there ! Halt ! 

[Enter Denton and soldiers. Crandon draws pistol 
and shoots guard, and as he disappears R. turns and fires at 
Denton who falls.] 

P — Catch the captin, he's hit! (Soldier catches Denton.) 
[Quick Curtain.] 



t" m -- ScE ^ »• Parlor, Marxon S eated ' 

^MtT^^t 8 :-: And -'^ 

We not seen CvJ^J?^ "*%,£"> * 
heartsick of this terrible watching and waiting ' ^ 

(Enter Maid.) A gentleman to^see Miss Kingslev 
Mar— Send him up. (Enter C T \ n„ . ■ ,-, ^'"c^ey. 

STaI C ? apt :! P rand r ' Wha ' madn6SS h ™^ J'"" here 
Ma"r Bm d ma ' "J"** 1 - ' Came to 5ee ™m 

death to vou l ' ^ ^ ^ ^ that di — >' W*e„. 

,ar 0f ?t^^tr-5; o ^r--- - *** . 

Cran— Then do not think of it. I am as kzfo h* 

r ?7 ,, Mar - E «>»e me a moment. (Exit R ^ 

absence "I fa" 1 ^ '" ■?*" " C0<)1 ^P^ »"" « y ear', 
mad W m T , W " h my " sck in a noos « *nd be called 

£^*S£^ If is madness ' but !t cannot be heIptd — 

a -^i^r^^^r^ that - — is 
t obe«rS'ret;:eY:z e :r yIinquire -- Youd ° * **- 

ed Fedel a ,7al t °" a h t ^ ^"^ " 0t ' but th ^ » a wound- 
Kederal captain here and some of his men come here daily. 

MM 



18 



You must net be seen by them. 

Cian — Who is this captain of whom you seem so careful? 

Mar — His name is Denton. He was shot and badly 
wounded in attempting to capture a man who is suspected of 
being a spy from the Southern army. 

Oran — When did this occnr? 

Mar — Three da}*s ago. only. 

Cran— (Aside.) Ah ! Then I did not kill the meddling 
fool after all. (Alcud.) Is he badly hurt? 

Mar — Seriously, but not dangerously, the surgeon says. 

Cran — I hardly think it would be quite the thing for me 
to be seen b} r these fellows. I suspect that your Captain Denton 
may blame me for his wound. 

Mar — O, do not say that. You surely are not the man 
for whom the Federals are searching so closeby. 

Cran — If they are searching lor the man who, shot your 
captain, then I am the man. 

Mar— O ! Heaven ! 

Cran — Do not fear, Marion. They will scarcely search 
for the spy at the be J side of the man whom he shot. 

Mar — There is one of the Federals who knows you. An 
Irishman by the name of Carney. He says he met you at your 
camp down the valley. 

Cran — (Aside.) That Irish devil ! Then he was the man 
and that story about his cousin was all made up. He must have 
recognized me instantly. (Aloud.) Well, it can't be helped 
now. I'll try to keep out of his way. 

Mar — You must not stay. I shall be in agony of dread 
until I know that you are back among your friends. 

Cran — Then it appears that I am not among friends here. 
This, then, is what I braved the Yankee pickets and took my 
chances of a disgraceful death to meet? 

Mar — You are unkind to charge me with being unfriendly. 
I am and always will be your friend. 

Cran — Yes, I come back after a year's absence in the field 



19 



to find you caring for some gallant captain, one of my enemies. 

Mar — It is only out of humanity. 

Cran — Humanity ! That is not the kind of humanity, I 
would mete out to these villainous invaders. A long rope and a 
short shrift would be the humanity I wonld give them. 

Mar — Surely you would not take advantage of a wounded 
man? 

Cran — No, certainly not, under ordinary circumstances" 
But this Captain Denton, if- he lives I will meet again and the 
next trial my aim will be a sure one. 

Mar — O, Captain Crandon. do not say that. I know that 
the north and south are enemies, but your enmity toward Capt. 
Denton seems to be a personal one. 

Cran — Let him look to it if he ever takes the field again. 
And you, too, Miss Kingsley. What answer would you make 
if 3^ou were charged with giving aid to the enemies of the south? 

Mar— (Rising.) No answer tc you, Capt. Crandon. But 
no one, sir, enemy or friend, who is helpless, can ask assistance 
at the hand of Marion Kingsley and be denied. I should be un- 
worthy the name of woman, should I refuse. 

Cran — O, that's all well enough. But it is very probable 
that it is a much easier task. for you to take care of a handsome 
captain than it would be were he only a private. 

Mar— Captain Crandon, my house is at your service. You 
will order whatever you require. But you have shown yourself 
in your true light and I desire to hold no further communication 
with you. I hope you may return safely to your command. (Exit r.) 

Cran — Worse and worse. Capt. Crandon, you may as 
well go back. You are not wanted here. But Capt. Denton, 
beware. We'll meet again. And Marion Kingsley will find that 
there will be a way made to tame her haughty spirit. (Exit L.) 



20 



Scene ?..- Parlor. 

[Denton with arm in sling; Marion sitting near.] 
Dent— I did not intend to play eavsedropper, Miss Kings- 
ley, bet being unable to get out of hearing, I was an unwilling 

Mar Then you know who my visitor was? O, what 

shall I do? When will this dreadful war and? 

J3 ent — Soon, I hope. It is dreadful, as you say, and must 
be doubly so to you, who have friends in both armies. 

Mar — What would be the consequences to Captain Craii- 
don should he be taken here? 

Dent The worst, I fear. He is running a tearful risk and 

S ore so since Carney recognizes him as the man who boasted 
that he would penetrate the secrets of our camp. 

Mar— If he should be taken, would he be treated as a spy? 

Dent — I am sorry to distress you Miss Kingsley, but there 
would be no other course to take in his case, I fear. 

Mar— It would be too horrible. I must see him at once 
and urge him to forego his desperate undertaking and fly. 

f) en t — Urandon is a daring man and will, notwithstand- 
ing his peril, be wild enough to remain until ae accomplishes his 
purpose, 

Mar — But he must know that everything is. against him, 
being recognized by -arney and yourself, as well. 

Dent— It is my unpleasant duty, Miss Kingsley, to en- 
deavor to accomplish his capture, but for your sake I would wish 
that he would at once leave the canto, 1 shjuld b± sorry were 
he taken in your house. 

Mar— I must see him at once and insist upon his depar- 
ture. (Exit R.) 

Dent— This rebel officer must be more than a friend to 
Miss Kingsley, notwithstanding her evident kindness to me. ' I 
hope he will escape, for the time at least, but if Paddy gets alter 
him he will need to be exceedingly cautious. That green 
ing Irishman is a regular bloodhound. [Enter Orandon L. 



21 



Cran — Well; you seem to be quite a; home here sir. May 
I inquire why you take advantage of unprotected families to 
quarter yourself upon them, knowing that your presence is ob- 
noxious to them? 

Dent — And may I ask, sir, if I am trespassing upon prem- 
ises in which you are interested, and it so, why do you leave 
them unprotected? 

Cran — I am interested this far: , I take an interest in every 
household in my country and have a sword to shield them from 
ruthless invaders, such as you. 

Dent — You take care however, to do your shielding at 

long range. Sir, I am here at the invitation of Miss Kingsley, 

having been wounded near this place and am at present,her guest. 

Cran — That's all very well. I presume that your presence 

is quite refreshing to the young lady. 

Dent — I have no reason to believe that my presence is re- 
pugnant to her, and I presume that it is no more refreshing than 
would be the presence of any man who might be in the condition 
lam, but I shall trespass upon her kindness but little longer. I 
take it sir that you areCaptain Crandon of the Confederate army? 
Cran— You may take it as you will. I am not here to 
explain who I am, or for what purpose I came. 

Dent — Presuming that you are Capt. Crandon,allow me to 

say that you are running great hazard in remaining inside our lines. 

Cran — Assuming that I am he whom you say, allow me 

to say that I can take care of myself, even in }'our camp, and I 

shall leave it only when it pleases me. 

Dent — My advice is given wholly on account of Miss 
Kingsley. Were it not for her, I should endeavor to compass 
your capture at once, bt.it for her sake I hope you will take my 
advice and get away as soon as possible. 

Cran — Ah! For her sake you are very kind. Have a 
care young man. I came in time I see. You with your pallid 
face and wound, have made fair progress in the good graces of 
Miss Kingsley, I fancy. 



Dent — Sir, if you were a gentleman, you would blush to 
h unmanly insinuations, and were I able to stand, I 
should hold you personally responsible for your language. 

Cran — There will come a time. You may thank your 
wound for safety now, but we will meet again when you cannot 
urge that plea. 

Dent — I have 3'ou to thank for my present helpless con- 
dition, but it will not )e loner before I shall be able to be about 
again, and if you are not hung for a spy in the meantime, I shall 
take great pleasure in chastising you for your discourteous lan- 
guage. 

Cran — You shall not escape. The earth is not broad 
enough for us both. (Exit R.) 

Dent— -Well, well; this doughty captain is a very bucaneer. 
I did not know but he would cut m} r throat at once. I hope the 
boys won't get him this time; I would like to meet him on his 
native heath. (Enter Paddy L.) 

Dent— Ah, Paddy, my boy, how goes it to-day? 

P — Bad, Captin, bad, an I hope per the same, sor. 

Dent — O, I'm on the mend rapidly and expect soon to be 
out again. But you seem to be downhearted about something. 
What is it, Paddy? 

P — Be dad, Captin, I'm in a quandary. 

Dent — Well, what is the quandary? 

P — Will sor, its about that divil av a ribil shpy. I've got 
him safe and sound but I'll be shot if I can foind the shpalpane. 

Dent — If you can't find him how have you got him 
safe and sound? That seems to be a paradox. 

P — I'm blisht if I know phat kind of av an ox it is at all. 

Dent — Explain yourself, Paddy. Your wits seems to be 
woolgathering 

P— They are, Cap, be dad. But I'll tell yez. That sphy 
is here some place, but I can't foind him. 

Dent — You told me that before. How do you know he is 
here ? 



23 



P — Be dad I seen him wid me own eyes. 

Dent — Probably he has got away by this time. Do you 
suppose he would stop here after he knows you recognize him? 

P — I do, be dad. Wouldn't he tink we'd tink that b} r ra- 
son av that he'd shkip at wance an that we wouldn't be lookin 
fur him? An the divil wid jist shtay here because he tinks we 
tink he's gone. 

Dent— That's pretty good logic, Paddy, I must confess. 
But what makes you think he is here? 

P — Because he's here, be dad. 

Dent — That is a good reason but how will you prove it? 

P — Be dad its proved whin I say it. 

Dent — It may be for your satisfaction, but you will have 
to bring the corpus delicti, as they say in law, before the Colonel 
will believe you. 

P Phwat's that, now? Be the howly poker, I'll make 

his corpus kiek high whin I ketch him. 

Dent — Yes, when you catch him, Paddy. Bring him 
around, Paddy, when you get him, I'd like to have a look at him. 

P — Look here, Captin, I want to ax } r ez wan question. 
Hev yez been out av this room to-day? 

Deut — No, Paddy, I have not. Why? 

P — Be dad thin, there's more insoide av this house than 
shows theirselves outsoide av it. 

Dent — What do you mean, Paddy? 

P — If I didn't say a man standin at wan av thim wind}^s 
not lang since, thin I'm a Dootchman, an be dad I'll foind out who 
he is. Thi young leddy here is the wan he wis comin to say an 
I belave he's here, be dad. 

Dent— -Well, if he. was here would you take him from the 
side of his lady? 

P — Be dad it wid go hard wid me to bring sorra to the 
beautiful young leddy, sor, but I 'd hev to do it. 

Dent — Don't look for him in this house, but keep a guard 
on the road and at the picket lines. There is plenty of time, 



Paddy, understand f 

P — I do that same, but he'd better make thracks, sor, be 
dad. (Exit L.) [Denton rings bell; re-enter Marion R.] 

Dent—Miss Kingsley, my man Carney has seen Captain 
Crandon at your window. Please to so inform him. I have not 
betrayed him, but Carney will surround the house with guards 
in less than an hour and he must be away. 

Mar — O, thank you Capt. Denton,he will go at once. (Exit.) 

Dent— -If he gets away from the house, well; Paddy will 
take his time. He will probably get away this time, but Paddy 
will watch him forever. (Curtain. 



ACT IV. — Scene i. Federal Picket Post. 
Sentinel on guard ; Soldiers lying about; Song: "Tenting 
To-Night ;" Shot fired R.; picket falls; alarm; Charlie beats 
long roll; enter rebels led by Crandon; Federals by 
Denton ; Charlie is taken ; Federals driven back ; 
Denton springs into rebel rank to rescue Char- 
lie and'is taken. 
Cran — Secure that man! Don't let him escape on your 
lives! Take that youngster to the rear, and some of you follow 
the Yankees a short distance. (To Denton.) Well met, Capt. 
Denton ; I see vou have recovered from your wound. 



Dent — I have, but I have received a worse one to-day. 

Cran— Ah! How is that? 

Dent — The capture of that drummer boy. 

Cran — Good! I wish that every friend you have were in 
my hands to-day. I would see that they were cared for. 

Dent — Yes, cared for in the way }>"Our government is al- 
ready caring for our wretched prisoners ; destroying them by 
the slow torture of starvation. 

Cran — To that torture I will consign your friend, the 
drummer, but for you, I have determined that you will have no 
opportunity for escape.- Your liie is short. 

Dent — What would you do? 

Cran — Do! Do? I have waited for this moment! To 
the ignominious death you would have consigned me, had I been 
taken in your camp, I propose to deliver you, and that right 
speedily. A rope there, some of you. 

Dent — You do not mean to hang me, do you? 

Cran — Do I not? Aye, were it the last thing I did on 
earth, and burned in the bottomless pit to all eternity for doing 
it, I would hang you. 

Dent — You cowardly wretch! I am a prisoner of war. 
Would 3^ou murder me? 

Cran — Yes, a thousand times over. The limit of your life 
is here. You shall not escape me if the devil should come and 
roar for you. 

Dent— Will you permit me to send a message to a friend 
in camp? 

Cran — Not a word. I shall attach a label to your breast 
when I leave you, which will explain to your brother invaders, 
who meted out to you your deserts. 

Dent — You monster! Proceed. I blush that I should 
have preferred any request to such a villain. 

Cran — Bring that cord and stop the breath of this Yankee 
marauder! I wish I had a thousand of them. 

Paddv — (looking over rock.) O, do yez, be dad? 



2G 



A rope is brought; Cran. adjusts it about D's neck: sol- 
diers take hold; Paddy looks over rock, attracts D's attention. 

Cran — Are you ready there? Up with him. 

Stan — (Steps forward and stops men.) By the way, Capt. 
don't you think you are a little premature about this thing? 

Cran — No interference, Stanford! By He who made the 
world, he dies on the instant. 

Stan — How will you report this matter to the Colonel? 

Cran — I shall not report it. This is my affair. Stand back! 

Stan — I am of the opinion that you had better postpone this 
tiring and turn your prisoner over to the proper authorities. 

Cran — Back, Stanford! This is my business; I shall al- 
allow no interference. Up with him! 

Stan — (Drawing pistols.) Then I'll interfere on my own 
acconnt. I'll drop the first man that attempts to pull that rope. 

Cran — Out of my way Stanford, before I do you a mis- 
chief. (Draws.) 

Stan — O, put up your artillery, it might go off and hurt you. 
But I will not stand by and see this man murdered in cold blood. 

Cran — Up with him, or by 

Stan — Drop that rope! 

[Shots fired; rebs drop rope, pick up guns and look away; 
Paddy re-appears and motions to Denton who springs up the 
rock and disappears; Cranclon turns to find Denton out of sight.] 

Cran — Death and fury! A thousand plagues light upon 
you! Why did you let him escape? Where is he? Where did 
he go? Scatter and find him! (Soldiers look about; shot fired; 
rebels retreat: enter Paddy and Union soldiers, L. 

P — O, be the lang handled gridiern, and may the divil 
toast me fur a shmilt if I wouldn't giv thirtane dollars a month i 
3 r ez had been here tin minnits sooner. O, be dad! We'd bagged 
the whole caboodle av thim. Murtherin turf, Captin, but yez 
wis purty near to glory, me b'y. 

Dent — Paddy you are always on hand in time. But I 
would have willingly submitted to capture if Charlie had been 



27 



left. Poor boy. And his mother. How can I send such terri- 
ble tidings to her? 

P — Don't take on so, Captin. We'll thry an get the b'y 
out av that divil's hole. 

Dent — Paddy, I am fearful. That guerrilla Captain will 
be so enraged at my escape that he will stop short cf nothing. I 
will return to camp. You may remain until I send a relief. Be 
on your guard. (Exit L.) 

P — Won't I be dad, an if that gorilla Captin ever gets in 
my way again, I hope to be gerrymated if it won't take forty 
Captin Denton's an a hundred pretty gurls to get him away. (Exit.) 



Scene 2. — Parlor. Mr. & Mrs. A. and Ethel Seated. 

Mr. A — How heavily falls the rain. I can but think of those 
who, as we sit by our pleasant fhesides, are shelterless to-night. 

Mrs. A — I too, but my thoughts go out to our boys in the 
army. I shudder when I think of my Charlie out in such a storm 
as this without comfort or shelter. 

Mr. A — Yes, mother; I often think of him and his com- 
rades. This would be a comfortless night, surely, lying on the 
wet earth in soaked garments, or standing a lonely picket in some 
dreary spot. 

Mrs. A — Sueh a night as this calls to mind the song I 
have heard the soldiers sing in camp. Do you remember it, 
Ethel? It commences about the rain. 

Ethel — Yes, mamma, I remember it, and will sing it if you 
and papa will assist me. 

Mr. A— With pleasure, daughter. What is the song? 

Ethel— It is entitled, " Heavily Falls the Rain." (Sings.) 
It has been two 3 7 ears since Charlie went away. He must be 
grown tc be quite a man by this time. O, I do wish this cruel 
war was over. 

Mrs. A— I fervently echo the wish, m}' daughter, but we 



23 



must wait God's good time, although it wrings our hearts so 
terribly. 

Mr. A — I believe that the end is near. From what I can 
gather of news, I am persuaded that the great struggle of the war 
will take place this summer. Grant in the east and Sherman in the 
west, will make a mighty effort to break the power of the rebellion. 
Mrs. A — May the end come soon, and may my fair haired 
boy be preserved to me through the storm and perils of war. 
(Enter maid with letters, L.) 

Mrs. A— Letters, Ethel! O, I hope we may hear good 
news from Charlie. 

Ethel— Here is a letter from Captain Denton, to you, papa, 
There will be news from Charlie in it, surely. (Mr. A. takes let- 
ter and proceeds to read; becomes greatly agitated.') 
Ethel— What is it, what is it? 
Mr. A — O, my poor lad! 

Mrs. A — What is it, husband? In mercy's name do not 
tell me that my boy is dead. 

Mr. A — Not dead, mother, but a 

Mrs. A— Tell me! Tell me! 

Mr. A — God help us, mother, our boy is a prisoner to the 
enemy. (Mrs. A. gives a cry and sinks into chair; Ethel springs 
to her side.) 

Ethel — Dear mother, do not give way so. It may not be 
so bad. O, my poor brother! 

Mrs. A— (Recovering.)Tell me the worst. Let me know 
it all. O, why did I let my little boy go away from my side! 

Mr. A— Captain Denton writes but briefly. He says that 
in a sudden attack upon one of their outposts, he and Charlie 
were both captured. Charlie was at once sent to the rear, while 
he himself was taken into the woods by the rebel officer in charge, 
and preparations made to hang him, but as they were about to 
complete their murderous work, he was rescued by our men, led 
by Paddy Carney. He adds that he will leave nothing undone 
to secure Charlie's release. Let us hope for the best. 



29 



Mrs. A — It is toe horrible. I have heard that imprison- 
ment is worse than death, and the thought of my boy, who neve r 
before was away from my side, being in the hands of the enemy, 
breaks my heart. 

Mr. A— -Take courage, mother. It is the fortune of war. 
Heaven will temper the wind to the shorn lamb. (Curtain.) 

Scene 3.— Denton and Paddy. 

Dent — Paddy, I have sent for you to propose to you a 
hazardous expedition. 

P— A phwat! 

Dent — A trip that is attended with great danger & hardship. 

P — Is that all. I thought it wis something onhandy. 

Deut — Well, it is disagreeable and I am almost tempted 
to not propose it to you. 

P — Shpit it out, Captin, an ii there's ony fitin or divarshun 
in it yez can count on Paddy Carney, be dad. 

Dent— Well, there's 'divarshun' in it, and probably some 
fighting. 

P — Out wid it then, an I'm yer man. 

Dent — You remember Charlie Aldine, who was captured 
some time ago: 

P — Ah, do I ! He wis a foine little chap an I'd go a 
linth to do him a good turn. 

Dent — I want you to find him. 

P — Foind him? Be dad I'll do that same. Where is he, sor? 

Dent — That I do not know'- He is most likely in some 
rebel prison. 

P — An yez want me to break into that same an git him out? 

Dent — Yes, if you can. 

P — Be dad I can git in aisy enough; but I'd hev to figger 
a little to git out, beloike. 

Dent — I want }^ou to get into whatever prison he is in and 
if you can't get him out, stay with him until you are exchanged 
or the war is over. 

P — An so. Captin I'll do it, but if the war is over before 



itm. 

low, I want to tell 
C a h a wba, A I a b a m a , 
?orgia; one at Anderson- 
Salisbury, Danville an( 
n at Cahawba, Millen 
as I tried to impress u{ 
You must start to-night 
>n about your movements 
at every opportunity. Good by, and 
(Exit L.) 
P— Well! That's cool onyhew! I'm to foind a b'y loike 
a nadle in a hay stack. How will I go, be dad? If I wasn't sich 
a divil of an Irishman, I could be a Dootchman wan da}- an a 
F-inchman to-morra. Dootchman, be dad! Lerarae thry wance. 
Nix tur shtay, be gorra! Mox nix ouse, ye divil! Arrah na 
pogue fur sauer crout und shweitzer case, galore! Be dad, I 
might pass for a Dootchman m China, but me brogue shticks 
through me Dootch too much for an American. Frinch! Parley 
vou Fransay, till yez! Comme-il faut, yez son av a tinker! O. 
be gorra, that's good Frinch it -I cud lave aff the blood y Irish, 
Well, I'll go, but beloike I'd bether go" as an Irishman. Me 
Frinch was neglectid whin I wis in collig an I'll lit it go. I'll 
foind the b'y if I bust the Confkleracy. I may git me head shot 
aff, but-- — )Sings song. Exit R.) * 



Scene 4. Parlor at Hill's. Hill, Dent. & Charlie. 

Hill — Well, young man, you seem to have had a pretty 
hard time of it. Where have you been? 

Char — I was in prison at Cahawba, and because I tried to 
get out, they sent me away. I escaped at Columbus a -week 
ago, and have been in the woods ever since. 

Hill — Its too bad that vou did not get through. I \ 



we had not stumbled upon you this morning. I will be com- 
pelled to send you to Newnan and put you in charge of our au- 
thorities there. We will start in a short time. (Enter Stanford 
and Jordan R.) Good morning, gentlemen, I have a Yankee 
here that we gathered in this morning while we were out duck 
shooting. 

Stan — (Aside.) Ethel's brother for a million. (Aloud.) 
What are you going to do with him Captain Hill? 

Hill — I'm going to take to Newnan. 

Stan— We'll save you the trip, if you like? Jordan and 1 
are now on our way there. 

Hill — Just the thing! (To Charlie.) You will go to 
Newnan with these gentlemen. (Charlie calls Hill aside.) 

Char — Captain Hill, I would rather go to Newnan with 
you. I know these men; they belong to Harvey's scouts and 
never take Yankee prisoners. 

Kill— I will arrange that. (To Stan and Jor.) I shall 
hold you, Stanford, and your friend, personally responsible for the 
safe delivery of this young man at Newnan. I shall make inquiry 
and if he fails to reach there, you shall answer to me. 

Stan — No harm shall come to the lad that I can avert. 



Scene 5, Jordan and Chareie in the Woods. 

Jor — I heard you mention the name of Kilpatrick to Cap- 
tain Hill. What have you to do with him? 

Char — I belong to his command. 

Jor — You do? Then you are one of that cursed band of 
raiders, are you? 

Char — I belong to Kilpatrick's cavalry. 

Jor — (Pointing L.) You go ahead of me. Halt! (Jor. 
draws revolver, points at Char, who turns his face away tor a 
moment, then throws up his arm and dashes weapon aside.) 

Char — You cowardly hound, are you going to shoot mi ? 



Give me one of your revolvers and I will chancery life with 
both of you. 

Jor — I'm going to kill you, you infernal raider. You come 
down here to our country to burn our homes and destro} T even- 
thing in your way. I never took a Yankee prisoner yet and J 
won't begin with you. (Raises pistol; Stan, comes up behind.) 

Stan — Drop that pistol. What were vou about, you tool! 

Jor — I am going to kill this Yankee raider. 

Stan— *;Put up your weapon. It does seem to me that 
some men are horn murderers. Now, Jordan, I could put a bul- 
let through yon with the greatest of pleasure, although we wear 
the same uniform, but I would be greatly shocked if you should 
kill this boy, notwithstanding he is a Yankee. - Strange how 
some people are constituted, isn't it? 

Jor — You keep away from me! I swore 1 would kill 
every Yankee raider I got my hands on. 

Stan — Well, you had bettei swear off. Let's argue this 
thing: Here is a coincidence; I prevented Captain Crandon 
from hanging a Yankee c aptain not long since, and he was ac- 
tually incensed at me. Here I prevent you from killing a boy, 
and you are ready to spring at my throat. Better drop it. 

Jor — I shall not drop it if we right over it. 

Stan — Do you remember what Cap. Hill said about this boy. 

Jor — I don't care what Cap. Hill said; I'm going to hill him, 

Stan — Now Jordan, I've discussed this matter with you 
pro and con and you are not convinced. What will prevail upon 
you to forego the killing of this boy? 

Jor — Nothing! 

Stan — Nothing? O, b}- the way then, how is this for an 
argument? (Shoves pistols in J's face as he turns.) Drop that 
pistol! Drop it I say! Step aside! It grieves me to have to do 
this, Jordan. Young man pick up that weapon and hand it to 
me. Now search that convert of mine for further instruments of 
warfare. No more? Well. Now Jordan, I am not much on a 
discussion, but I'm a crack shot, and if you don't like my proced_ 



33 



ure, some day when the war is over, if you are not hung by that 
time, I will diseuss the relative accuracy of our respective weap- 
ons at ten paces. In order to lighten your load, I'll carry your 
pistcls to Newnan. You may stay behind, but don't get out of 
reach, I won't trust you our of range. Now young man, I want 
to give you some advice: You shouldn't go to war. War is a 
bad thing for young men. It destroys their usefulness and some- 
times shortens their lives. You shouldn't have been captured; it 
is troublesome to our people to have to feed and guard you. You 
shouldn't run away; you get out among strangers and a person 
feels comparatively isolated even in the best ol company, when 
that company is made up of those to whom he has not been in- 
troduced. Where do you liue when you are at home? 

Char— At Morena, Illinois. 

Stan — Yes! Your father's name is 

Char— Phillip Aldine. 

Stan — You have a ! Well, we'll not go further. It 

is ad form to pry into family secrets. You tried to get away 
did you? 

Char — Yes, I did, and I'll try again if I get an opportunity. 

Stan — Perfectly proper, if you succeed; but I would 
strongly advise against it unless }^ou do succeed. I would hardly 
try it if I were you, until I got outside of the Confederate lines. 
But what I was going to say; I expect to go north shortly and 
it would probably be a great comfort to your mother to know 
that you are alive and well and hopeful. 

Char — O, yes, indeed! I wish that I could let her know 
that I am living. 

Stan — Well, I will give you some more advice. Don't try 
to get away at hresent. Be patent. The war is nearly over. 
Don't get homesick. I will write to your mother and •tell her 
that you will pull through. We are almost at Newnan. Close 
up, Jordan, we have reached our destination. (Exit L.) 



. -.-• — 



o4 



Scene 6. Par-tor. Marion and Stanford Seated. 

Stan — You are intending to go north, Miss Kingsley, I 
understand? 

Mar — Yes. There is nothing left here for me to do and 
I have relatives in one of the western states. I will remain with 
them, at least until the war is over. 

Stan — I am somewhat acquainted with \ r our uncle's family 
and as 1 have business in that section, I may do myself the honor 
of calling upon you, With your permission, when, as you say, 
"the war is over." 

Mar — I should be pleased to have you call, Capt. Stanford. 

Stan — May I -inquire how soon you expect to start, and is 
there anything I can assist vou in? 

Mar — Thank yon. I will start in a few days. My prep- 
arations are all made so far as relates to matters here. I will 
have to obtain permission at the Federal outposts to travel north, 
I suppose,but could hardly ask you to obtain that permission for me. 

Stan— I should be delighted to obtain that permission for 
you, but I am afraid my preference of the request would lead you 
as well as myself into difficulty. 

Mar — Yes, therefore I will not lay the task upon you 
trusting to find gentlemen among the Federal soldiers. 

Stan —That I can vouch for, Miss Kingsley. 

[Enter servant L.] A gentleman to see Miss Kingsley. 

Mar — Show him in. (Enter Crandon L.) Capt. Crandon! 

Cran — Miss Kingsley I am delighted to see you in health. 

Stan — Howdy, Crandon? 

Cran — Ah, Stanford, you here? I thought you w T ere 
with your command. 

f Stan — Excuse me, Capt, But our thoughts of each other 
run in the 1 same channel. We are both mistaken, it seems. 

Cran — I learn, Miss Kingsley, that you have decided to 
go north? 

Mar — I have so decided Captain Crandon. 



Cran — Allow me to sa}- that I consider your decision both 
ill-timed and unwise. 

Mar — Pardon me, Capt. Crandon, but I am of the contrary 
opinion. I have relatives in the north who will be glad, I know, 
to have me with them. 

Cran- But your duty to the south. You should not leave 
now, when the arm of every man and the heart of every woman 
is needed to secure the victory. 

Mar — Captain Crandon, I love the south, but this whole 
country is my country. I am opposed to secession and am hor- 
ror-stricken at the suffering and desolation its mad projectors 
have brought upon us. 

Cran — This is rank treason. 

Mar — Well, if it is, I can only say with oar illustrious fore- 
fa ther: "If this is treason, make the most of it." 

Cran — This is not a light matter, Miss Kingsley, as you 
will find. What will protect your property it you are absent? 

Mar — My negroes have been pronounced free by Presi- 
dent Lincoln. My land cannot be destroyed or carried away. 
What other property I had has been taken by the Confederate 
government to aid as you say, the south in securing victory. 

Cran — You shall not be allowed to leave here. Who 
knows but that you may carry information tothr Federal armies? 

Stan— -Crandon, allow me to remind you that Miss Kings- 
ley is not to be suspected of playing the spy. That is left for 
such as } T ourself. 

Mar — You may be able to delay my departure, Captain 
Crandon, but I believe those who know me best would never 
impute to me the charge you hint at. 

Cran — Well, I shall not be responsible for the safety of 
your property hei e. My men, even now, are not easily persuad- 
ed that you are not in full sympathy with the north, especially 
since you cared so unselfishly for that gallant Yankee Captain 
who was afterwards saved from his just deserts by our mutual 



36 



friend, Stanford, here. 

Mar— Sir! ' 

Stan — By the wa}', Crandon, I am totally averse to dis- 
cussion, so far as I am concerned, but your attitude toward Miss 
Kingsley requires some consideration from me. I never quarrel 
in the presence of ladies. Miss Kingsle\ r will excuse us for a few 
minutes, I am sure. 

Cran — Miss Kingsley has no need of your championship. 

Stan — True, quite true, where it is a matter between sha 
and you, Crandon. 

Cran — Then sir, you can take your leave. 

Stan — When? To-morrow? I'll think of it. 

Mar— Captain Stanford is in mv house, sir, and he leaves 
only at his own pleasure. 

Cran — O, he does' Another Captain attached to the 
charming Miss Kingsley's chariot! 

Stan — Miss Kingsley, I sincerely beg your pardon for this 
unseemly disturbance in your presence, but really the case de- 
mands it. t^Bows, then walks Crandon out R. by the collar.) . 

Cran — Unhand me villain, or I'll do 3*011 a mischief. 

Stan — (Returning.) Miss Kingsley* 3-ou will excuse me a 
moment. I am desirous of seeing Capt. Crandon briefly before 
he goes. 

Mar — O, Captain Stanford, do not go. I am afraid there 
will be blood spilled. 

Stan — No, Miss Kingsles, I assnre you. (A s he bows.) 
Not to-day. (As he Exits R.) But very likely to-morrow. 

Mar— -Another proof of the lawlessness of war. I am 
afraid that something dreadful will happen. Captain Crandon is 
so dreadfully passionate and Captain Stanford will take no pain > 
to mollify him. O, there will be murder done and how can t 
prevent it. (Re-enter Stanford R.) 

Mar — O, Captain Stanford, what have 3*011 done? 



Stan — Unfortunately, Miss Kingsley, nothing. We hail 
no mutual friends to see the affair, and I was afraid that if I fell 
there wonld be no one to show that it was fairly done, the 
matter has been dropped. (Aside.) For the present. 

Mar— O, I'm so glad. But I am sorry Captain Crandon 
has such a high temper. 

Stan— So am I, indeed, and I would not be surprised if he 
himself was sorry in a short time. 

Mar— Do you think he will try to prevent my going north? 

Stan— I might do him injustice were I to say he would. I 
am inclined , however, to believe that he will not. I think that 
he will be reasonable when I next meet him. 

Mar — I hope so, indeed. 

Stan— Weil, Miss Kingsley, I have already overstayed 
my time, and must go, but bef< re going, may I be allowed to ask 
} r ou one question? 

Mar— A dozen, it you wish, Captain Stanford. 

Stan— One will suffice. If by fortune or misfortune I 
should survive the war and other vicissitudes, when I come 
north will I be welcome at your uncle's home? 

Mar— I can speak for uncle Aldine. I am sure you will 
be welcome. 

Stan— I am not at this moment asking a welcome from 
uncle Aldine. You will be there if 1 come. How may I expect 
to be received? 

Mar— ^Turning aside but giving her hand.) You will be 
welcome. (Exit R.) 

Stan— I have followed the fortunes of this Southern phan- 
tasmagoria for four years and this is the end. The end of the 
phantasy. It was only a wild dream of ambition; dreamed by a 
few, for their own aggrandizement. The dreamers looked ' for- 
ward to power and honor, but they sought it at the expense of 
honor and power. They precipitated this whole country into a 
wanton, wicked and woful war, the burden of which fell upon 
the common people. And what have they gained? A lost 



cause! Blood; blood on every hand. Crime, woe, want, death. 
The curse of Egypt is over us; there is one dead in every house. 
Burning cities, ruined homes, desolation, despair ! The brand of 
Cain is on every brow, and the righteous blood of our brother 
Abel cries out from the thirsty ground. Passions engendered 
which no ties of kindred or friendship can reconcile or tame. 
What a page in history ! I have lost the capricious friendship 
of Crandon, for preventing the murder of that Yankee captain. 
Well, if I have clone one good act in all my checkered life, I am 
glad of it. He was jealous of the Yankee and wanted to get rid 
of him. Crandon is a hot-headed boor and Denton has a girl in 
the north. He does not know that Miss Kingsley is Ethel's 
cousin, and he does not suspect that I am the college senior who 
graduated when he was a junior. Well, let us live life slowly. 
We can have what we want, if we will only wait for it. I believe 
I have an element of fairness in my make-up and must needs cul- 
tivate it. I have received satisfaction at the hands of Miss Kiugs- 
ley ; now I must go and give satisfaction to my friend Crandon 
for so unceremoniously kicking him down stairs. I regretted 
the occurrence on Miss Kingsley's account, but Crandon was 
served better than he deserved. I suppose he will want blood 
for it. Well, I'll try and let him have some of his own. (Exit L.) 



Scene 7 — The Duel in the Woods. 

(Enter Crandon, his Second and Surgeon R. Stanford, 
Second L. Seconds greet each other and the Surgeon.) 

Stan — Ah, doctor, you brought the necessary appliances, 
I perceive! 

Dr — Certainly; certainly. (Rubbing his hands.) All in 
excellent shape, too, Captain. 

Stan — Doubtless ! 

Cran's Second — The arrangements are these : Principal's 
at six paces. The word, one two, three; fire! One, stop! Take 



:S9 



your places, gentlemen. (Cran. and Stan, assume positions.) My 
principal says he is willing- to receive an apology and let the 
matter rest. 

Stan's Second — My principal says it is too late. Go on 
and give the word. Are you ready, gentlemen? 

Cran's Second — One, two, three, fire! One, stop! (Cran. 
stands unharmed. Stan, clasps his left arm to his side.) 

Stan's Second — Are you hit, Captain, you are pale! 

Stan — Not a word. Load and fire again. 

Second — But Captain, you — 

Stan — Silence. I'll kill him if he had shot me through 
heart. Be quick about it. (Pistols loaded, principals in places.] 

Cran's Second — Are you ready gentlemen? 

Stan's Second — One, two, three, fire! One, stop. 

(Crandon staggers and is caught by second and is lain 
down. Surgeon feels pulse. Stanford and his second advances) 
Curtain. 



ACT V.— Scene i. Prison. 

(Denton in foreground. Charlie lying down in front. 
Other prisoners lying around.) 

Dent — My search is ended. And this — this is what I find. 
Here is t"he boy I took from his father's rooftree and his mother's 
fostering care — an inmate of this festering prison house. Where 
sleeps the vengeance of God, that this place should batten on hu- 
man beings? All! all !— the strong in their strength, the youth 
in their bloom dropping into this rotten mouth of death. This is 



--but let its ;:•; me bv-accur.se .1 forever on the earth.. The true 
history ot th ; place wi'l starte and shock the world with a tale 
< f horror, of woe and death heretofore unheard oi and unkown. 
No pen will ever describe, no painter ever sketch, no imagina- 
tion comprehend its fearful and unutterable iniquity. It seems as 
if the concentrated madness of earth and hell had found its final 
lodgment in the breasts of those who inaugurated the rebellion.. 
and that this prison had b ted frr the most terrible hu- 

man sacrifice which the world has ever seen. Into these narrow 
confines are crowded thirty thousand enlisted men of the Union 
arm)- 7 , many of them the bravest and best, and the most heroic oi 
these grand armies which carried the Stars and Stripes to victory. 
For long and weary months here they suffer, are murdered, and 
die. Here they linger unsheltered from the heat of a tropical 
sun by day, and drenching and deadly ews by night; in every 
stage of mental card physical disease; hungered, emaciated and 
starving. Festering with unhealed wounds, gnawed by the rav- 
ages of scurvv and gangrene,' with- swollen limbs and covered 
with vermin thev have no power to extirpate. Exposed to 
flooding rains which drove them drowning from the miserable 
holes in wnich, like swine they burrowed. Parched with thirst, 
and mad with hunger, racked with pain, or prostrated with the 
weakness of dissolution; filthy with smoke and mud; with naked 
limbs and matted hair, eaten by the gnawing worms which thei 
own wounds engender; with no bed but the earth, and no cover- 
ing but the clouds and weeping sky; these men, these heroes, 
born in the image of God, thus crouching and writhing in this 
terrible torture and sickening barbarity will stand forth in history 
as a monument of the surpassing horrors of Andersonville as it 
will yet be seen and read in all future time, fitting counterpart of 
Dante's Inferno or Milton's hell. Thus I find my boy — yet un- 
subdued, but failing day by day. How could I tell this tale of 
horror to the loving mother and gentle sister. Flope ? Aye ! 
Let us hope. (Goes to Charlie.) Charlie, boy, keep up your 
courage, I believe we are near the end. 




41 



Char — (Looking up.) It has been a long time, Horace, 
but I am going to pull through. I believe I can outlive the Con- 
federacy even if I only get a pint of meal a day. 

Dent — You aie a brave lad, Charlie. We'll se^ the end 
together. Let us give the bo}-s a song. (Sing Tramp, Tramp, 
Tramp. Invisible chorus. Enter Paddy R.) 

Dent — Paddy Carney ! 

P— Who's that? O! phat the div- O! by the bones of St. 
Pathrick, if it isn't the Captin! 

Dent — Yes, Paddy, it is I or what's left of me. 

P — Be, dad its moighty little that's left of yez. 

Dent. — Starved, Paddy, starved in this hapless prison. 

P — Stharved, d'ye say? An me wid lashins av grub. Here 
be dad? — (Hands D a cracker.) — Ate yer fill av that. I've got 
a paice av another 

Dent — Thank you Paddy; but here's one that must have 
the first.— (Goes to Charley.) 

Paddy— Who's that? The Charlie boy? O! blissid St 
Peter! An are yez found? O! glory and smoke! — (Goes to Char- 
ley.) — Hillo, Charley boy- Hi! d'ye mind this! Hooray lad! 
wake up. Here's yer Irish mither and faather, be dad. 

Char. — O! Paddy, is that you? Have you come to take 
me home? * 

Paddy — Be dad, I have that same. Git up! We'll have 
lashins to ate in a jiffy an may de divil fly away wid de ribels. 

Dent — When I was captured they took all. my money 
and valuables and I have had to live on prison rations now for 
two months. Have you any money? 

P — Money? I'm a millionaire, but yez needn't tell enny- 
body. I'll go and git sum grub if there's any to be had in this 
divil's galosh. (Exit R.) 

Dent — Cheer up Charlie. Paddy w r ill bring us something 
to eat shortly, and we'll have everything that this God-forsaken 
. place affords. 

Char — I feel better already, Horace, and it I can have 



42 



only half enough to eat, I'll pull through. 

■ Dent — Well, we'll have it my boy. [Enter Paddy with a 
.haversack of crackers..^) 

Paddy — Here be dad, ate till yez bursht. I med a dicker 
wid a bloody reb to bring us sum swate peraties to-night, an be 
jabbers we'll hev a faste that'll startle yez. Hooray fer Tipper- 
a-ry an down wid the traitors an oop wid the shtars. The bloody 
wa-ar is over, beloike, an we'll be goin home wan av these days. 
[Tableau. Curtain.] 



ACT VI.— Marion seated. 

Mar — The long war is over at last. The soldiers are re- 
turning home. Those of the north wreathed in glory; those of 
the south with heavy hearts for their bitter defeat. But grief, 
deep and lasting mingles with the joy of t&e north and the 
bitterness of the south. Breaking hearts for the graves on every 
hillside, and in every valley of the south. Despair for the noble 
boys, whose souls went up to God from Libby's dismal prison, 
and the burning sands of Andersonville. O, what a terrible 
reckoning there will be with the madmen who plunged our 
beautiful country into such dreadful woe. O, my suuny southern 
home, my heart goes back to you to-day. But where are the 
friends who were with me there only a year ago? Crandon, 
Denton, Stanford. Shall I ever see them again? And where is 
Charlie ? Dear cousin Charlie ! It is now a month since the 
surrender of Lee, and still no word from the lost. Aunt Aldine 
suffersin silence, but I see that she is failing day by day. Oh, 



4:i 



heaven send back to her her noble boy, to cheer her breaking 
heart. (Sings "The Blue and the Grey.") 

Enter Mrs. A. and Ethel L. 

Mrs. A — I heard you singing, Marion. I wish I could 
sing, but my heart is too heavy with sorrow for that. 

Mar— O, aunt, I wish I could do or say something that 
would lighten your sorrow, but I can only say, Hope ! 

Mrs. A — I do hope, Marion, but I dare not think of what 
will come when I must cease even to do that. (Sits down over- 
come. Marion retires weeping.) 

Ethel — Mother dear, keep up } T our courage. I believe 
Charlie will yet come home. (Enter Stanford L.) 

Mrs. A— Mr. Stanford ! 

Stan — The very same, Mrs. Aldine. A little more staid, 
perhaps, than when you knew me years ago. And this is Ethel 
without doubt. But how grown ! Well years work wonders. 
(Greets Ethel.) I met Mr. Aldine on the way from the station. 
He was going to the postoffice, he said. 

Mrs. A — Yes, the good news of Lee's surrender comes to 
us with sudness. We. hoped w r hen the war closed we would 
hear of our boy, but have heard nothing yet. 

Stan — Did you get my letter, Mrs. Aldine, written some 
time since about the lad ? 

Mrs. A — -We did, Mr. Stanford, and you have our grate- 
ful thanks for the hope it gave us. 

Stan — I believe that my words will come true, Mrs. Al- 
dine. Charlie is of that nature to bear up under difficulties. 
[Enter Mar.] Ah ! Marion ! (Advances.) 

Mar— Captain Stanford ! (Greeting. Enter Mr. A.) 

Mr. A — Good news, children ! Good news ! 

Mrs. A— O, Charlie ? 

Mr. A — Yes, Charlie. Here's his letter from Jackson- 
ville, Florida. Three weeks on the way. Thank God ! The 
boy is sate. 

Ethel — What does it say, Papa ? Read it. 






u 



Mr. A — (Reading.) After the surrender of Lee, the 
Johnnies took us out of prison and brought us down to Florida 
and turned us loose in the woods twenty miles from this place, 
telling us to follow the railroad track and it would take us to our 
lines. We needed no second bidding. It was a long walk, but 
we kept up, and on the morning of the 29th of April Capt. Den- 
ton, Padd} T Carney and myself sighted the old flag at Jackson- 
ville, pretty poor in flesh and short of clothes, but the happiest 
fellows in the world. He closes by saying that he won't be far 
behind the letter. 

Ethel — Papa, you are hiding something from us, I can see 
it in your eyes. • What is it? 

Mr. A. — Don't be inquisitive, Ethel! Let us take the 
news easily. Mother, you will see your boy before long. 

Mrs. A. — And I will be so happy. 

Mr. A. — [Going to door.] — Come in boys. — ] Enter Char- 
ley, who goes to his mother • and Dent., who goes to Ethel and 
greeting. Enter Paddy.] 

P. — O, be dad! Here we are. The prodigies have re- 
turned. Give us a gould ring and a new gown. — [They form a 
half circle Mr. A left. Mrs. A. Charlie, Dent., Ethel, Stan., 
Mar., Paddy.] 

Mrs. A. — O, Charley, how you have grown! 

Char. — Well, mother, I did as well as I could lor the 
chance I got. We didn't live very high while boarding with 
the Johnnies. — [Paddy laying oft" in dumb show to Stanford.] 

Mr. A. — Peace has returned to our couutry and our 
hearts. 

Ethel. — Let us sing our peace song. — [Mr. and Mrs. A. 
C, D. 5 E., S., M., G. and Paddy in front; others behind. Song. 
— " 'Tis Finished." Solo and chorus. Curtain.] 



A 



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